


Blooming Gardens of Violet

by Daddyackerman



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love, angst but not really angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 07:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7609543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daddyackerman/pseuds/Daddyackerman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark wants to look away, to turn his attention and thoughts to something that doesn’t concern Taeyong and the heavy feeling stirring somewhere around his chest, but he finds himself unable to. Taeyong looks beautiful even in colours painted by artists who were never supposed to lay their hands on the canvas.</p><p>(or: Taeyong comes home with bruised collarbones one night, and Mark does not understand the concept of love.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blooming Gardens of Violet

Mark is fifteen and a year away from debut when Taeyong comes home with marks on his neck-gardens of brilliant violet blooming against the pale gradients of his collarbones, hidden from the prying eyes of staff and cameras by wooly ,oversized sweaters made necessary by the frigid winter. But there is nothing to hide behind the doors of the trainees’ dorm , and the bruises stand out in an almost proud fashion on Taeyong’s bare torso.

Mark wants to look away, to turn his attention and thoughts to something that doesn’t concern Taeyong and the heavy feeling stirring somewhere around his chest, but he finds himself unable to. Taeyong looks beautiful even in colours painted by artists who were never supposed to lay their hands on the canvas.

“Gotten yourself some, Taeyong?” Yuta laughs and winks from across the bunk. There’s the whistling from Chittaphon and all the others are throwing Taeyong intrigued looks as well.

Taeyong simply chuckles, a small lifting of the corner of his slim, and now slightly swollen, lips. His slim, swollen lips that someone else, someone with voluptuous curves instead of the barren flatness of Mark’s worn body from hours of practice and not enough food to make up for it,someone with long and smooth hair instead of Mark’s stupid bowlhead, someone wanted by Taeyong, someone who was not Mark, had kissed.  


Mark sits himself down on his bed that suddenly feels as hard and cold as the wooden benches on the pavements in Seoul during winter, and watches Taeyong talk.

“I-I was just stressed , is all.” Taeyong says, hesitance tainting his words.”I didn’t think it’d get this far , though. Bet I’ll get in trouble?” He asks with furrowed eyebrows as he looks at his messy collarbones.  


“Just…cover them up well .But don’t do this again, Taeyong,whether it’s with another trainee or someone else. You know what could happen.”Taeil says with a concerned tone.

Taeyong was diligent,persevering. Everyone knew he wouldn’t let anything sway him from his dream. Was he really so stressed? Was he so stressed that he sought comfort on the lips of a strange girl, instead of coming and talking to Mark, or any of them?  


Mark is fifteen, and doesn’t understand the concept of Taeyong’s “stressed” or why Mark himself is stressed. He blames it on the days drifting to give way to debut, and condemns it an ephemeral feeling,a passing season much like this very winter.

“Who was it anyway?”Chittaphon whispers to Taeyong , but it’s loud enough to reach Mark on the next bed. Taeyong is giving Chittaphon his signature astringent glare, but Mark knows he’s going to answer anyway despite his reticence, and that no matter how hard he tries not to, he’s going to hear the answer anyway, and no matter how hard he tries not to, he’ll go to sleep feeling like all the snow lining the streets outside have been dumped on his chest anyway.  


He wishes a blizzard strong enough to drown out the sound of Taeyong’s voice would blow, and take Mark away with it too.  


But a blizzard does not blow , Taeyong’s story of how he sneaked out with Seolhyun does not vanish into thin air, but rather imprints itself cruelly and coldly, so coldly on Mark that not even the incandescence of the heaters nor the now seemingly frail blankets do anything to warm him.It's preposterous,almost impertinent to Mark's clouded conscience.Filled to the brim with worries of debut,practice,debut,the future,practice,and debut,he has to bear the additional burden of a heavy heart.

Mark is fifteen,and doesn't understand why suddenly a wall of discomfiture has built itself around him and Taeyong.Aren't Mark and Taeyong like brothers?Hasn't Mark always found the comfort of home on the benign hands of Taeyong that found their way around his shoulders every time they posed for a picture, every time they laughed about something,every time Mark needed a shoulder that wasn't his own?Isn't Taeyong Mark's mentor,helping him infuse emotions into his lyrics until they weren't just words on paper but a tune charged with passion and sentiment?Isn't Taeyong the one who had built up Mark ever since he step foot in the company,3 years ago with the frail body of a twelve year old boy from Canada who lacked both confidence and Korean,piece by piece until he stood where he is now,as one of SM's best hopes of a rapper?Why,then,is it tearing Mark down to look at the mere sight of him?

 _Am I really that ungrateful?_ Mark thinks. _After all this,why would I ever look at him that way,whatever looking at him that way means?_

Mark is fifteen, and does not understand the concept of love. 

And so he resigns himself to the bench hard bed and the sight of the snow obscured window,and lets Taeyong's voice drift him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> My first published fanfic,I wrote part of this in one go,while I struggled with the ending.I don't know if this was heart wrenching enough.Leave comments and kudos,constructive criticism is appreciated :)


End file.
